tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821Mon, 26 Jan 2015 05:56:58 +0000nub nubbaby makingfamilies are foreverhelp me i'm helplessmotherhoodwhy I love Hubchildhood. nub nubLuwhy being a kalli is so greatif you pick my brain here's what you'll getconnieChristmas is Heresummer lovin'happy birthday babyrandomcrazy timesBirthday girlfabulous fridaybrothers don't shake brothers gotta hugfamilymy life as a KalligiveawayholidaysvacationGus a LUMPinternet girlfriendsme likeymy family is crazywhobabysnowHalloweenHeavenly Father's Plan for USI've got a case of the Monday'sbuying a housechildhooddinnerdo workdomesticity at it's finestfriendysgus the doghopes and dreams and other thingsif you believe you can achieveneed sleepythe great hair debaucleyou tubeHub my loveTriplebaby #3daddiommmm fooodmy head might blow upnotes to myselfsicklystoopidwhy I love Paul4th of julyI be up in the gym just workin' on my fitnessanniversaryblog dateschurch is for crazieseveryday lifegusi love tvsabbath day ponderingsspring feversweetcheeksKKRichRocky Mountain Moms Blogbaking sucks sometimesi really donaturerunning??thanksgivingthe waiting gamewinter SUCKSDeck my HallsHaitiSYTYCDbattle fats '09bloggingboysi'm famouslazinessmormonsmother's daymy happy placenew shoesoh happy dayplease tell meraising boyssisters don't shakesisters gotta hugthursdaystoday is a good day2008 and feelin' greatChristmasSanpeteadolescence at it's finestbaby ruthcollegefashion disasterfootballhomehuh?jobs are for suckerslife in generalmovingquestionsassy scoopsstupid cartechnologyvalentine'sweekends are FUNChristmas cardsFloridaGET A LIFEGymboreeIKEANew YearsTurkey DayWednesday is a Great Dayanimal farmblog boredombudgeting and the likebummerbyucabin fevercjanecuriosity killed the catdecorating decisionseven MORE famousget my fitness ongo cougsgratitudeguest postinghouse projectsi like big buttsi love your facei'm a dorkmind vomitmom of boysmy preciousphotographyquilting for beginnersrecipesshop with mestupid weathersweet babiesthe officethe olympicsweddingsweekly menuwinner winner chicken dinneryou're welcome#99100 celebration201020153 year32 weeks with baby #3Auntie KarmDaybreakEasterFifth DiseaseFifth Disease in pregnancyGardner VillageGus WayneHeber Valley RailroadHub is famousI swear I'm not a pole dancerImagine DragonsJCW'sJerry SanduskyJesus love me and YOUJoe PaternoJustin Hackworth 30 StrangersLee jeansMintedMt. TImpanogasNew GirlPenn StatePresident HinkleyProvoRooftop Concert SeriesSalt Lake homesShutterflySkyfallTMIThomas The Train giveawayThomas the Train PromotionTodays MamaUtah Homesabby girlbattle fats '11battle fats '12birthbirth control is serious businessblessingsbrunch and blogbucket listch ch ch chaaaangechild abuseclothes for kidscookiescraftingcraigslistcrepesdie happydogsitting suckselection sureepiphanyfacebookfairviewfallfollow the prophetfrankenstormfreedomgestatinggo megobble gobblegrownupsguilthalf marathonho's before bro'sholiday cardsholiday cards from Mintedhonestlyhow toi love my bathrobei love to see the templei love willi wishi wish i were a mommyinagurationinstagraminsurance companies are stupidit's mekid clotheskiddoslappytoplove at homemake-up miraclesmarch madnessmemorial dayminerva teichertminted holiday cardsmommy modelsmoneymooooovingmuddermuffinsmusical depressionmy wallet runneth emptynaval gazingneighborsnie nie and lovepantspetit elefantpetspicture of the week 1picture of the week 2ponies and joypop culture for idiotspostpartumpregnancypretty flowerquality clothes for kidsraperecipiesroom for improvementsad endingssave meserviceshe getta married...smarty pantsso I wish I could drawsocially awkwardsponsoredsteelersstupidswedentag teamthings that do not sucktree huggertwitt awayvengance is minevote or dieweight losswhinewho does thatwill is the greatestwomen's jeanswonder woman is hotwritingwuv true wuvwwyes we canyour manhood isn't safeMLAK (my life as a Kalli)http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/noreply@blogger.com (Kalli)Blogger658125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-8556187720522098396Mon, 05 Jan 2015 07:51:00 +00002015-01-05T00:51:21.308-07:002015baby makingbrothers don't shake brothers gotta hugfamilies are foreverIt's A Full House, And Not The Kind With John StamosI don't even know guys.<br /><br />Sometimes I forget that I ever had a blog, because what are those? And I'm busy and that's all well and good but I also miss writing about the dumb stuff that goes on every day around here. And my kids, remember when I didn't have any kids and NOW I HAVE THREE? That's a weird things to self-actualize when I sit and think about it. Since The Nub was born I've kept a private blog for them where I use their real names and post all the stuff I never posted here because the internet is weird and what's personal anymore? I also meant to print that out into a book every year but HAHAHAHAHA! Nope. &nbsp;I'm about 20 years behind on that too. Just another thing for me to file under "you suck". Except, whatever. We're all still alive and functioning and this season in life is what it is. I might never get those books printed but I will Instagram that crap out of their childhoods and that'll have to do until the next great social media movement comes along. I tried my best, kids, you're welcome.<br /><br />What I feel like saying is that I wish I could be one of those moms who is good at having large amounts of children, and before I actually had any (children, that is) I fantasized that I would be. When the truth is, I'm pretty sure that skill set just isn't in my wheelhouse, at least not currently. Which is a shame, because I am really good at having beautiful babies. I'm also good at gaining a lot of weight while pregnant and eating donuts, all things currently listed on my resume. My kids are 6, 4, and 16 months right now. I always knew I would have at least three kids, well let's just say I always planned on at least three. But now that I'm here I think any more would be a ticket to crazy town and every time I find myself losing my mind in an embarrassing way over something stupid and trivial (like the lack of flushed toilets around here), it occurs to me that I am stretched, maybe to the max, and I don't know how to come to terms with that.<br /><br />So I'm not going to.<br /><br />I feel pretty lucky that adding a third to this mix went as smooth as it possibly could. People seem to equate adding a third kid to the moment where everything went to hell. It wasn't that bad over here, probably because I made up my mind that it wasn't going to be, and the fact that our 3rd musketeer was a pretty chill babe didn't hurt either. Paul is still in school full time (13 credits last semester) with a job that requires a long commute and 40+ hours a week. The man is not home a lot. We survive on grilled cheese and breakfast cereal. I still work a few hours a month too. It's not a ton, but what I do means I work into the night and I'm a night owl anyway so that's okay for me. It gets a little embarrassing for my kids when they're dragging me out of bed and I'm clawing them off to stay in, I don't know why they want things like "breakfast" and to "go to school" anyway.<br /><br />I don't know where I'm going with this, as per usual. It's late, that nap I took after church (9 am call time, hallelujah!) is finally starting to wear off and maybe I'm a little tired. I do know that I'm glad Christmas break is over because I'm not sure how much more Wii my kids could play without burning out the machine and I'm over diffusing fights involving Lego Star Wars for the moment.<br /><br />Oh, and we got a dog.<br /><br />I don't know why either.<br /><br /><br />2015, it's gonna be super!http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2015/01/its-full-house-and-not-kind-with-john.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-7310107639429871177Mon, 23 Jun 2014 06:58:00 +00002014-06-23T01:16:51.048-06:00get my fitness onhalf marathonpostpartumrunning??stoopidBears Weren't Even Chasing Us Either<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Look, in Utah everyone drives a minivan or SUV with race stickers plastered across the back window. "13.1" and "26.2" and "Ragnar" and the like. I like to interpret things this way: our extracurricular activities are limited since there's not a lot of alcohol consumption going on so we take up running instead. Also, we are unnaturally competitive in this state. <i>Oh you only have two kids? I have three, it's so much harder than two. My kids only watch t.v. for 30 minutes a day and it's only PBS. We only have Netflix and they have to earn their t.v. time by doing acts of service for the neighbors. You nursed your baby for 5 months? I nursed mine exclusively for 2 years, breast is best you know. My son taught himself to read by studying the scriptures every morning and now he's fluent in Mandarin and has the Gettysburg address memorized. I ran 10 miles this morning, for funsies! And then I came home and made my family gluten free waffles and cleaned my whole house with a q-tip, all before 10 am.</i>&nbsp;And that's sort of how it goes.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I've never had any aspirations of becoming a "runner" and I use that term loosely. I've always been athletic and active, sure. But running has never been my jam. I used to skip out on long runs during track season in high school and go to a friend's house for a snack instead, and I'd cry and argue with my coaches when they wanted me to run any further than a 100 meter dash. I'm going to go ahead and call myself lazy because that's really what it boiled down to. Anyway, I ran my first 5k a few months after I got married and did a few more here and there. 3 miles was plenty far. The only reason I'd ever run further (farther?) is if a bear were chasing me or a tornado or something.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">But then I had another baby. And I was feeling pretty sads about my postpartum bod because even though I'd worked out the entirety of my pregnancy, the scale wasn't budging much. And yo, it was starting to mess with my head. So my sister says, "run a half-marathon with me!" and I'm like "okay!". So <a href="http://afhalfmarathon.com/halfmarathon.php" target="_blank">I signed up</a> and printed off a training schedule, and I started running AND IT SUCKED. I was mad. I complained a lot to everyone about why did I play $80 to run 13.1 miles because that is no kind of logic. I got freaked because it didn't seem to be getting any easier and I was suffering through these miles, straight suffering. And then one day, it wasn't so hard, one recent day, maybe in the last 4-5 weeks of training even. I did 6 miles, and then I pushed a stupid double jogger uphill halfway for 7, and then I ran 8 on a dumb treadmill because it was pouring rain outside, and then 8 again outside and it was beautiful! And then my sister joined me for 9, and then we pounded out 10 a week later and I thought, HOLY SHIZZ I CAN DO THIS, and I was pumped.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">So yeah, Saturday morning my sis stayed over and we woke up at 3:50 am, got on a bus at 4:30 am which eventually broke down halfway up the canyon, so we got on another bus and then it was go time. &nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Guys, we crushed it. Even though I felt like dying the last 2 miles, I can't wait to do another. I had a baby 9 months ago! I ran a half-marathon! Running with my sis was magic, she is my unicorn running partner and I'm not sure I can ever run a distance like that without her. Hitting the straightaway to the finish line was pretty much one of the top 10 moments of my life, it made me so high guys, I totally get it now.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We finished in 2:02:58, about 8 min faster than I'd hoped for. I was pleased as punch with that time, until I was pissed we didn't get it under 2:00. Next time, sis. Next time.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a25LPfBGF2M/U6e_8e4nnRI/AAAAAAAABL8/vq58RRBrD_A/s1600/IMG_3626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a25LPfBGF2M/U6e_8e4nnRI/AAAAAAAABL8/vq58RRBrD_A/s1600/IMG_3626.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;<a href="http://www.natschofield.com/?zx=6a98d6da09ae0de6" target="_blank">Nat</a> and <a href="http://whitneyingram.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Whit</a> gave me that shirt the day before with some words of encouragement</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">it says "find your happy pace"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I sure like those lady friends&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q67SL11DRss/U6fAfjhvB5I/AAAAAAAABME/rfb3D6ugbb4/s1600/IMG_3636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q67SL11DRss/U6fAfjhvB5I/AAAAAAAABME/rfb3D6ugbb4/s1600/IMG_3636.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Codi looks like a champion here, I look like I need an ambulance.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Really? I was just thinking "don't poop yourself!"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-45OpJAX109A/U6fAsGK0PEI/AAAAAAAABMU/0UfLS_liIOU/s1600/IMG_3639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-45OpJAX109A/U6fAsGK0PEI/AAAAAAAABMU/0UfLS_liIOU/s1600/IMG_3639.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our dad woke up at the crack of dawn to drive up and cheer us on because he is a tender old dude.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He and Paul were at mile 9 and at the finish and cheered us down the final stretch.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Not gonna lie, totally made me cry.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is the pic he took to send to my mom because she had to go to a funeral and couldn't come.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H1GysMM7J_4/U6fArrX9fuI/AAAAAAAABMM/LVUoE31zqiI/s1600/IMG_3634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H1GysMM7J_4/U6fArrX9fuI/AAAAAAAABMM/LVUoE31zqiI/s1600/IMG_3634.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We sure made that race our bitch.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and I still refuse to put a dumb sticker on the back of my car&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">unless that sticker says "I run for donuts", because I support that</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2014/06/bears-werent-even-chasing-us-either.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-4689560532190982919Thu, 01 May 2014 23:50:00 +00002014-05-01T17:50:23.406-06:00childhoodmotherhoodIn My Next Life Stage, I Hope I Get RichMy house is pretty quiet right now.<br /><br />That shizz is rare. Someone needs to warn you that the more kids you have, the more noise your precious ears get exposed to, and the less you'll feel like a normal person - however relative the term.<br /><br />We live on a street that is rapidly filling up with old people, thanks to a developer cramming houses in with no yards and main floor master suites and laundry rooms. Didn't you know that every old person's dream is a main floor laundry and master suite? No stairs, no problem. It's cool, I guess. I can't hate on the senior citz. I'm just glad we have some kids within playing distance, it's no cul-de-sac of fun, but it'll do. Also, I really love that my big boys are at the age where they can just run across the street to play. that I don't have to help them go down the slide or up the rock climbing wall at the park. Self-suffiency, it's a wonderful thing to behold! Of course we'll do that all over again when Baby Ruth gets ambulatory in a few short months which leads me to my next point:<br /><br />Moving in and out of life stages is weird. Nubby goes to kindergarten this fall, a thought that brings me simultaneous joy and terror. I'm kind of an old mom around these parts, most women my age have kids that are already in school. I didn't have my first baby until 26, and my third at almost 32. If, by some miracle, we have another kid I will likely be considered of "advanced maternal age" which is fine, whatever. Paul's the real grandpa, he turns 38 in a few weeks, two more years to 40! Did I notice a big difference between having a baby at 26 and another at 32? Hell yes I did. I don't know why your body has to suddenly decide it's old and wants to hold onto baby weight like it's going out of style (my favorite euphamism), even when you work out the hardest you've ever worked out in your entire life and you signed up for some dumb half-marathon so now you're actually running miles in consecutive order and going for "long runs" on Saturdays when you'd rather be at home eating waffles with the rest of your family. Suddenly, I get why these moms fill the back of their vans with Ragnar and 26.2 stickers, and it's because their life is changing stages, and they don't want to be irrelevant anymore because their kids need them differently now, it's less physical and more emotional, and they need something else to put all of that motherly energy and anxiety into. Plus, you know, accomplishment and fitness and all of those things to check off the list when you run races and blah blah blah. <br /><br />I'm just theorizing here, but dang if I'm not Dr. Phil-ing this one all the way to the bank. Anyway, stages. Who will I be when I don't have a fat baby on my hip? I already can't get right with Triple, seriously, he's three and a half and everything I do is offensive to him. My lovely, perfect, responsible oldest child is heading into the public school system in a few months, hello the next 18 years of my life. &nbsp; <br /><br />Let us pray I can figure this out and no one dies along the way.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WmzKVkspSsw/U2LdhQ-wK9I/AAAAAAAABJs/Ewlefm2FieM/s1600/DSC_3228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WmzKVkspSsw/U2LdhQ-wK9I/AAAAAAAABJs/Ewlefm2FieM/s1600/DSC_3228.JPG" height="428" width="640" /></a></div><br />I am the master of blurry photos.<br /><br /><br /><span id="goog_855422769"></span><span id="goog_855422770"></span><br />http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2014/05/in-my-next-life-stage-i-hope-i-get-rich.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-5852444507496410848Thu, 23 Jan 2014 07:01:00 +00002014-01-23T00:01:51.939-07:00blogginglife in generalmy life as a KalliI Don't Go To These Things, But I'm Going. So I Guess I Go To These Things. I always only ever feel like writing, blogging if you will, when it's late and when I have to be up in a pre-determined amount of hours. 6 in this case. I know full well that Baby Ruth will likely wake up a few times between now and then so basically this all just means I'm a glutton for punishment and will be praying to the caffeine gods around the same time I should be taking a nap to make up for it. Naps, I miss those.<br /><br />Tomorrow I'm going to a conference for people who design and create things and run blogs professionally amongst other endeavors. I've been a part of this world for 2 years now on the back end of things, and though I'm not sure how exactly I got there, I've been grateful for the work and thankful for the friendships and things I've learned and am still learning. I'm intimidated at the prospect of attending this conference because I am not artistic nor creative, in the way that people normally think about being artistic and creative that is. I don't draw pictures, I hate throwing parties, I am pretty damn good at taking iPhone pictures but my DSLR sits in a cupboard most of the time and I pull it out to take pictures of my kids every now and then because you know, THEY GROW UP SO FAST. And really, spending two days with people who create things, and wear nice clothes, and take beautiful pictures of those things and themselves and put it all on the internet for sale or inspiration or what have you…(I assume they don't sell themselves on the internet because that type of conference would be a horse of a different color), two days with people of such interests sounds like something I'd usually avoid and even roll an eye at. I'm good at that. I'm also good at sweatpants and watching network television, and eating, hooray!<br /><br />But I'm going because I was gifted a ticket very generously, and I'm going to be friendly and meet people and fight the introverted extrovert urge to run and hide in a bathroom. The thing is, I'm good at what I do right now, but I feel like I have the potential to do some other pretty amazing things with my life eventually. While I have no clue what those things are, I keep waiting for inspiration to strike and I know that someday it will, and in the meantime, listening and learning from other people who've taken the leap and found success is probably a step in a progressive direction. You know how much I love progress, right? Sure. &nbsp;<br /><br />Plus, my mom always says that I need to give new things a chance and to stop being so negative all the time. Whatever, Mom. Not like you know what you're talking about ever.http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2014/01/i-dont-go-to-these-things-but-im-going.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-2182266032086152130Mon, 06 Jan 2014 02:07:00 +00002014-01-05T19:08:14.552-07:00cabin feverchurch is for crazies1 PM Church Is The WorstSunday dinner. Is there anything better? I submit, no.<br /><br />Paul's parents gifted us some Omaha Steaks and other sundry goods for Christmas. We made quick work of them tonight, like the starving carnivores we are. Today was <a href="http://www.lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?vgnextoid=bbd508f54922d010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD&amp;locale=0&amp;sourceId=586a2f2324d98010VgnVCM1000004d82620a____" target="_blank">Fast Sunday</a>, except I haven't fasted properly in years. Pregnant, nursing, hungry, I'm full of good reasons why not! Also, our church time went from 11 am to 1 pm, a completely a-hole move if you ask me. 1 pm church is 3 hours of torture for the families with small children of unusual size, like us. It's nap time, they're hungry, we should all be at home watching football. Paul says the church isn't true after 1 o'clock. I'm starting to agree. Oh well, I guess I love Jesus enough to stuff myself into a skirt (or pants if I feel like it) and go anyway. Connie would be so proud.<br /><br />I have approximately one skirt I can tug up over my supple hips. Despite the fact that I've been working 'dat booty in the gym pretty regularly, most of my wardrobe still doesn't fit. Not even a little bit. Oh I'm strong, like bull, I just have a layer of winter insulation on top of it all. And sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night to feed Baby Ruth, I realize that I've been sweating up under my neck and hairline. My body temp is all out of whack. I blame the hormonees.<br /><br />I realize I've made this same complaint with all three of my postpartum bodies now. I get it, I just had a baby. He's 4 months old (and about to move up to size 4 diapers, naturally). I've been here before, I know it ends eventually. The thing I can't remember is how long this lasted before I could zip my pants up comfortably again. All my leggings are getting friction holes from where my thighs rub together. And I know there are people out there who are all "leggings aren't pants" and I'm all, "they are if you squeezed out a giant baby and can't fit into anything else, so bite me." I text my friends who probably all wish I'd shut the hell up about it, and then I bake a batch of cookies.<br /><br />AND HOW.<br /><br /><br />Tomorrow it's back to the routine. Nub goes to preschool, Paul back to work, me and the two littles to the gym. I'm glad for routine, I thrive on routine. It makes me feel contained and in control. These winter days are too long, and too indoors. Is it spring yet? You let me know.<br /><br />http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2014/01/1-pm-church-is-worst.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-2435239109600593513Wed, 01 Jan 2014 06:26:00 +00002014-01-05T19:08:35.817-07:00gratitudeNew YearsOut Like A Lion10:25 on New Year's Eve.<br /><br />December really punched me in the face this year, to cap off what I guess were 11 previous months of backwoods style survival. Assuming the backwoods have grocery stores, fountain Dr. Pepper, the city pool, iPhones and Target. I realize I've come a long way since the Wyoming ranch upbringing of my youth...<br /><br />It's been a good year, and a hard year. But I don't know a lot of good things that aren't generally earned the hard way so I guess I came by it honest. It was the year of Baby Ruth, barfing through the first 1/3, watching and feeling my bod contort to magnificently round proportions in the second 1/3, and finishing out the final 1/3 with a perfect new baby, a crap load of lonely days and long nights, and a holiday season that felt like it was never going to end. I'm grateful, I am. Mostly that it's over. I'm also glad that I know that these seasons in our lives pass just as quick as the real ones. Paul won't be in school forever (I hope), we will see each other before the sun goes down again. I will, someday, sleep in more than 3 hour increments, and pee won't always be puddled on the floor in one or all of the bathrooms of this house. Or maybe it will. I'll pray about it.<br /><br />Here are things I'm thankful for:<br />1. My car. Old Blazey keeps plugging along with the check engine light burning bright and the front differential leak dripping solid as ever. We just can't quit each other and that's all right with me. The kids are a little crammed but I've never been so grateful to have her paid for as I have been this year. She/He (I'm not really sure on the gender) treats me good.<br /><br />2. Financial Aid. Ah, the benefits of heading back to school with a wife and three kids in tow.<br /><br />3. Baby Ruth. That baby is solid gold, or maybe I'm just enamored enough to look past all the typical exhaustion/sleepless/babies are work stuff. I love him so much, my Instagram feed proves it.<br /><br />4. Those other two children. They're pretty great too. Can you believe the Nub goes to kindergarten this year? I say that like you care, because I do. I'm too young to have a kid in kindergarten. Guess it's time for my midlife crisis. Triple, if he doesn't give me a stroke before I turn 40, I'll be a monkey's uncle. But I sure love him, and the blueberries he smeared all over my couch while I was in the shower.<br /><br />5. These parents and in-laws and siblings of mine.<br /><br />6. Friends. Such good friends. I've waited my whole life to have the kind of friends I have right now and I feel just lucky. They feed me, clothe me, love my kids, care for them if needed, and basically just show up, sometimes with a frosty bev. That's love.<br /><br />7. Paul. He works hard, he rides the train, he goes to school, works on the weekends too, teaches Gospel Doctrine, and still has time to do the dishes before he passes out cold every night, dead to the world style. I love him. I'm proud of him.<br /><br />There's lots more to add but my eyes are burning and I need to put myself to bed before my golden baby wakes up and yells at me for food or comfort. Babies are such selfish jerks sometimes.<br /><br />Happy New Year to you and yours!<br /><br />Hello, 2014! I hope this is the year I finally get rich and skinny. HERE'S TO THE POWER OF THE SECRET, I'm coming for you. <br /><br /><br />http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/12/out-like-lion.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-6500598958587091462Sun, 08 Dec 2013 07:33:00 +00002013-12-08T00:50:07.924-07:00baby #3baby makingbaby ruthbirthfamilies are foreverhappy birthday babyOne Morning In August<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">What is it about a newborn that makes time move in absurd directions? One minute it's way too fast, and the next it's like you're all in the middle of slow-mo replay. But here we are, almost 4 months later and maybe I'm ready to talk about the day my Ruthie was born.</div><br />Simply? It was pretty magical and seven different kinds of speedy. The details have lost their sharp edges, but somehow that privileged feeling of having a new baby in my arms hasn't faded at all. I worried after I got pregnant, I worried about how this would all shake out. Paul is deep into school, taking time off from that or work just wasn't an option. He needed to push through and get it done so I knew I'd be doing a lot of the heavy lifting at home on my own. I prayed with the pleading heart of a desperate soul that this baby would be what I needed, that I could do this without losing my mental health or descending into the Hunger Games of motherhood and survival of the fittest. And then I made up my mind that I could, and so far I have.<br /><br />All of my babies have been inductions. One by necessity, high blood pressure, the other two by choice. I guess I lack the patience or maybe even the ability to actually go into labor by myself. I walk around dilated to a 4 or 5 weeks ahead of my due date. Each time praying that this will be the one time I'll do it by myself. The hospital I deliver at is a good 45 minutes away (thanks insurance), I have a history of speedy births (Triple was 3 hours start to finish), and I so did not want to do this in the front seat of a car on the side of the freeway, or on my bathroom floor at home. Nope. Plus, Paul had work and school requirements which made that day a particularly appealing one to have a baby. So, I did.<br /><br />Early the morning of August 26th, I woke up, got my hairs did. Took care of the last minute stuff. My mom showed up, my boys woke up, we snapped a picture on our front steps:<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CQm8uLt8LfE/UqQSqBO2RHI/AAAAAAAABDE/GPf_TsNw7q8/s1600/IMG_4409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CQm8uLt8LfE/UqQSqBO2RHI/AAAAAAAABDE/GPf_TsNw7q8/s640/IMG_4409.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">And then we were off. Only a half an hour late. The skies were overcast again, just like the last morning I'd made this same drive three years earlier, the day that Triple was born. We checked into our room. Took one more photo to document the grandiosity that was my super hot bod. Exhibit A below:<br /><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bGgT4vXvprY/UqQji4DdIvI/AAAAAAAABEM/Uxz3ERcT9pA/s1600/DSC_2817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bGgT4vXvprY/UqQji4DdIvI/AAAAAAAABEM/Uxz3ERcT9pA/s640/DSC_2817.jpg" width="428" /></a></div><br /></div><span style="text-align: justify;">I changed into my hospital gown, got hooked up and an i.v. placed. My doctor came and we laughed a little, I really love my doctor. The giant crochet hook came out and boom, my water was broken and I was again grossed out. Game time, 9:00 am. Walking back out the door Dr. Watts looked at the clock and said "12:30 is my guess, see you in a bit!" I was pretty convinced I wouldn't need pitocin after my last childbirth experience and those contractions sure did start rolling in low and slow. The thing about being dilated that far and then having your water broken is that you're pretty much in the middle of the active stage of labor with no build up and that can be super not fun. It's like getting on a roller coaster in the middle of a loop. I am so good at analogies! That first hour seemed like it took for.ever to pass, especially when those contractions starting picking up in intensity. Finally at around 10:30 I was over it and told Paul to go hunt my nurse down so she could call for the nice epidural doctor. Of course that took another 20 minutes and then the tiniest Asian lady anesthesiologist came into the room and took her sweet time getting that blessed pipeline of numbness placed.&nbsp;</span><br /><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Let's just all admit that hard contractions and trying to hold still don't really jam so well. I must have been gripping Paul's hand something fierce because I looked up and his face was white and he had crazy eyes. He looked over at the nurse and said, "I think I need to sit down" and then he was gone, down like a tranquilized water buffalo. The nurse somehow kept him from hitting his head on the monitoring station. I told her to get out of the way because comatose water buffalo were heavy and I didn't want her to get hurt. She laid him out somehow and she and tiny anesthesiologist were hovering around him when he came to about 30 seconds later. I just laughed, because really, who passes out during that part? He couldn't even see the needle! Thanks Paul and your low blood sugar/hangry problem. Maybe you should have eaten before we walked out the door. A few crackers and some juice and he was right as rain. Everyone left the room, Paul went to get some breakfast, and I was alone. Except for that stabbing pain on the left side of my body because that epidural was most definitely not working. Paul came back fresh full of pancakes and I was gripping the rail of the bed in extreme pain with flashbacks of <a href="http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2010/09/it-happened-like-this.html" target="_blank">Triple's freight train birth</a>. I just kept thinking, <i>I don't want to do this again, not this way! I want to push and be happy and not feel like dying instead!</i> Things get a little dramatic when you're in the middle of labor, am I right? I'm right.&nbsp;</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Paul chases down my nurse who comes in and clicks my epidural button again and says she'll be back in 10 to see if we need to get the anesthesiologist. 10 awful minutes later she comes back, no change, still dying. She looks at me and decides that maybe I'm just progressing really fast and decides to check for confirmation of that. Guess what, I'm complete. Let's have a baby. Dr. Watts comes back, the big mirror on the ceiling came out, <i>hello lady bits-nice to see you again</i>!&nbsp;</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Two big pushes and this time I watched eyes wide open as my sweet Baby Ruth made his way on out into this world and onto my chest.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1UGPqqvyfiU/UqQc9fbDljI/AAAAAAAABDw/LNzgc1C0eD4/s1600/IMG_4100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1UGPqqvyfiU/UqQc9fbDljI/AAAAAAAABDw/LNzgc1C0eD4/s640/IMG_4100.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">That moment, when your child takes his first breath, that moment is so full of sacred I can't even describe. And it was. And it's why I love having babies. The feeling in that room is palpable, I love it so much.&nbsp;</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Welcome my handsome boy, all 9 lbs 4.2 oz and 20 inches of you. We're so happy you're here. You've been an absolute joy and a bright light in our home. You maybe even softened my intense dislike for the the newborn stage because I've actually found myself relishing this time with you like no other. You're perfect. I love you. Thanks for choosing me.&nbsp;</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-grQKPlrpH1Q/UqQb7TvWV8I/AAAAAAAABDg/FenRQnUKqcI/s1600/IMG_4112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-grQKPlrpH1Q/UqQb7TvWV8I/AAAAAAAABDg/FenRQnUKqcI/s640/IMG_4112.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">August 26th, 2013, born at 11:27 am</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B9tX3HjpYBs/UqQdt6SZ3aI/AAAAAAAABD0/puxDvlzFIPA/s1600/IMG_4120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B9tX3HjpYBs/UqQdt6SZ3aI/AAAAAAAABD0/puxDvlzFIPA/s640/IMG_4120.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />*p.s., beat&nbsp;Triple's&nbsp;birth by a full half hour. 2.5 hours start to finish. I'm awesome.http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/12/one-morning-in-august.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-5400560724201203360Sat, 30 Nov 2013 06:44:00 +00002013-11-29T23:54:32.311-07:00Christmas cardsholiday cards from MintedMintedminted holiday cardsHoliday Cards Are My FavoriteYou know I love me a good <a href="http://www.minted.com/holiday-photo-cards" target="_blank">Christmas card</a>. Getting snail mail any time of the year is my favorite, but getting a whole grip of snail mail is even more my favorite, which is why the holidays are the friggin' happiest time EVER. Okay, maybe not ever. But they are in the top quadrant of my happy times configuration.<br /><br />I just barely pulled my shizz together and sent out Baby Ruth's birth announcements a few weeks ago. I should have just combined that business with holiday cards because I used all the best pictures of my children looking calm and angelic and now I'll have to figure out how to get more taken so I can further exacerbate that misrepresentation. But that's the whole point of holiday cards anyway, right? Yearly smuggery and showmanship? Look at us! My kids are the cutest! We are winning at all the things, me especially! I've had 3 babies and my thighs don't touch! (LIES LIES LIES). Oh bless, I don't care. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH ANYWAY! Get in my mailbox, cards. And just so you know, my thighs rub worse than ever thanks to the extra <span style="font-size: xx-small;">THIRTY</span> pounds I seem to be storing for the long, hard winter ahead. If you need me I'll be in a cave hibernating (watching tv) with some carb laden baked goods and a frosty bev, and all your holiday cards to keep me company.<br /><br />Anyway, you should check out the <a href="http://www.minted.com/holiday-photo-cards" target="_blank">holiday card selection</a> from <a href="http://www.minted.com/" target="_blank">Minted</a> because they have about a million awesome options, none of which are lame thanks to their community of creative professionals who design, compete, and contribute some pretty amazing stuff.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v1d7vPtXBWM/UpmLhnLAAMI/AAAAAAAABCs/-MIFdAVB2mQ/s1600/gold+foil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v1d7vPtXBWM/UpmLhnLAAMI/AAAAAAAABCs/-MIFdAVB2mQ/s640/gold+foil.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I mean, actual gold foil? Bananas!&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />You should read up about <a href="http://www.minted.com/about-us" target="_blank">their story</a>, it's pretty cool. Holiday cards are just the tip of the Minted iceberg, really!<br /><br />I'd show you which ones I'm considering but that'd circumvent the whole point. Let's just hope I do a little proofreading this year after I slipped an extra vowel onto the end of Nub's name last year and didn't realize it until I pulled one out to start stuffing envelopes. Threat level: Genius.<br /><br />*facepalm<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><br /><br /><br />http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/11/holiday-cards-are-my-favorite.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-865003727644569011Wed, 20 Nov 2013 06:30:00 +00002013-11-19T23:30:59.784-07:00boysbrothers don't shake brothers gotta hugfamilymom of boysneed sleepyraising boysBright And Sunny, Or NotIt's no big secret that I am the very opposite of a morning person.<br /><br />Every morning my kids rudely wake me up demanding things like juice and breakfast foods, or sandwiches if your name is Triple. Sometimes I get lucky and they crawl in bed with me and watch Tom and Jerry and I get a good 30 to 40 minute buffer where I can stay them and their demands off before I have to drag myself out resentfully and do something productive. I'm only 5 years (and some change) into this motherhood thing, but more often than not, this is how most of our days begin.<br /><br />This morning in particular, Triple curled up in the crook of my bent legs, his body soft, heavy and warm. The Nub was to my left occupying the spot his dad had vacated after leaving for work. It was dark outside, the drapes were shut, our house quiet and still. We stayed that way for the better part of an hour until the baby woke and forced us all from our nest and back into the routine of juice, breakfast, syrup, sticky, diapers and all the daily stuff. But that small slice of time?<br /><br />I am not a morning person, except for mornings like that. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TIum2mQ9NZo/UoxUmSU2OQI/AAAAAAAABCY/ufoUnNDtzrY/s1600/IMG_4940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TIum2mQ9NZo/UoxUmSU2OQI/AAAAAAAABCY/ufoUnNDtzrY/s640/IMG_4940.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/11/bright-and-sunny-or-not.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-7975901104557001660Tue, 29 Oct 2013 06:36:00 +00002013-10-29T00:36:19.799-06:00baby #3baby ruthboysfamilies are foreverfamilymotherhoodraising boysEvery Day I'm HustlingI'm so behind.<br /><br />On this blog, on life in general if we're being honest.<br /><br />Sweet Baby Ruth is 9 weeks old today. He's a nugget who enjoys in this particular order: boobs, pacifiers, extreme swaddling, the occasional bottle, and snuggling all the live long day. I'm deeply in love with him. Deeply. He's been smiling and making those baby sounds that are like napalm melting my face off because OH MY GOSH HE'S SMILING AND GURGLING AND I CAN'T TAKE IT!!!!!!!<br /><br />Stand down, Mother.<br /><br />It's taken me a week to write this post because my brain is broken and the only writing I do is for other people, mos def not for myself. I feel out of practice with this whole thing. Someday soon I'll catch up and write about the morning I brought another human being in the the world, again. Because it was amazing and it's over already and I feel a teensy bit sad about it because I don't know if I'm having any more babies, and maybe that's why my world is so wrapped up in this one. I can't quit him in the least bit. The other two are equal parts exhausting and just really awesome. 3 and 5 are some good ages (but 4 is probably still my favorite). Brothers are the best though, right? I love having boys. So much, so much.<br /><br />I know that I'm tired every night, and I'm really happy. Having three kids is bonkers in all the right ways. My life is still sporadically crappy and average by some standards and almost always stressful, but I'm assuming it's that way for everyone so no top of the podium for me. I think maybe the trick is having a baby with a fuzzy head and blue blue eyes to make everything all better.<br /><br />You should try it.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JgKk4B6ab6Q/Um9UlR-X9VI/AAAAAAAABB4/3mCAqRjZB64/s1600/IMG_4805.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JgKk4B6ab6Q/Um9UlR-X9VI/AAAAAAAABB4/3mCAqRjZB64/s640/IMG_4805.JPG" width="412" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruthie, 8 weeks</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br />http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/10/every-day-im-hustling.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-656675107221260120Mon, 07 Oct 2013 03:32:00 +00002013-10-14T21:56:05.229-06:00childhoodchildhood. nub nubgiveawayGymboreePlay Today And A Giveaway!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mP9UMXE1gtk/UlDm5uYRYuI/AAAAAAAABBM/3jz-zPsNZKY/s1600/IMG_4076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mP9UMXE1gtk/UlDm5uYRYuI/AAAAAAAABBM/3jz-zPsNZKY/s400/IMG_4076.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Kids, man. Mine drive me insane all day long but really, they're pretty great I guess. Pictures like these make me feel alright about the fact that we managed to have a decent summer even though I was huge, sweaty, easily irritable, and basically useless for most of it. I hope they don't remember how much t.v. they watched (hours upon hours upon hours...) and instead hold onto those brother powered lawnmower rides and glowing nights at the ghetto fantastic drive-in when we were lucky enough to have the place practically to ourselves. &nbsp;</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ga4VDVRFOx4/UlDnFrRnTXI/AAAAAAAABBU/T4zY-pbDwYE/s1600/IMG_3860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ga4VDVRFOx4/UlDnFrRnTXI/AAAAAAAABBU/T4zY-pbDwYE/s640/IMG_3860.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">There are negatives to living in this digital age, but at least my boys will never suffer for lack of photographic record of their childhood and I'm grateful, because they're ginormous already and getting smarter and taller and more big-people like every day. It's weird and sad and awesome all at the same time and I could probably get all sentimental and squeeze out a hot tear or two about it, but instead I'll point you toward this little vid done by <a href="http://www.gymboree.com/" target="_blank">Gymboree</a> because kids-they grow up too fast!&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/k5p1-41Du1g" width="420"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, cherish those little nuggets even when they say things like "YOU'RE NOT A NICE MOM, I'M GONNA THROW YOU IN THE GARBAGE", when you tell them they can't have a piece of gum because pretty soon they grow up and leave you and you'll want to throw yourself into the garbage from all the loneliness instead.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Here's what you can do while your kids are growing up and you're trying not to blink your eyes and stuff: leave a comment below if you want to win a $50 gift card to <a href="http://www.gymboree.com/" target="_blank">Gymboree</a> and get your kids some clothes so they won't be starving and naked, unless they prefer to be starving and naked in which case, my sympathies because I feel that. Just one comment will do, and make sure your email address is included if it's not on your blogger profile, mmkeh? High five!<br /><br />**Giveaway now closed**</div>http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/10/play-today-and-giveaway.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-8763957562141244832Thu, 26 Sep 2013 21:55:00 +00002013-09-26T15:56:02.868-06:00baby #3baby makingbaby ruthhappy birthday babyBaby #3 Is Borned<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Listen, after the hottest summer of.my.life., this sweet baby boy showed up (after a 2.5 hour labor, my personal best) weighing in at a substantial 9 lbs 4 oz. It's been 4.5 weeks now and so far, he's a total dream, except for the burning nips and constant vigil I have to keep to prevent Triple from "accidentally" poking his eyes out and feeding him granola for breakfast.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We'll call him Baby Ruth, or Ruthie if you please, on this here blog because it just kind of fits. I love him so so much. I'll update more when I'm not nursing a baby or refereeing the other two knuckleheads. So, probably not anytime soon seeing as how it took me a month to post this in the first place.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J_bSBbmgVm4/Ui1VAPHOIHI/AAAAAAAABAI/5Kp2GW6lhsA/s1600/DSC_2870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J_bSBbmgVm4/Ui1VAPHOIHI/AAAAAAAABAI/5Kp2GW6lhsA/s640/DSC_2870.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/09/holy-crap-i-have-3-kids.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-4781760110025972436Wed, 07 Aug 2013 22:07:00 +00002013-08-07T16:13:21.893-06:00baby #3gestatingmotherhoodpregnancysummer lovin'Bargina-Dispatches From The InsideFinding yourself approximately 272 months pregnant in the middle (beginning-ish) of August on the tail end of the hottest summer on record in years means that you sit down to work after putting your kids down for naps and practically start sweating to death with your heat emitting macbook on your lap and swollen sausage digit fingers.<br /><br />I'm starting to get a mite crabby.<br /><br />Other things I don't like about this stage: random strangers commenting on your "turkey timer". Because really D.I. worker, I just want you to take my bag of crap and let me be on my way to Sonic without talking due date and belly button status with you. See also, discussing cervical changes with neighbors, family members, church people, gas station clerks, and my grandma in particular. Oh, and Paul apparently does not care to differentiate between a cervix and a bargina (as my friend<a href="http://galanapalooza.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"> La Yen</a> would say) and that dilation of one does not mean that both are grandly preparing themselves for the miracle that's about to take place. I'm just saying, I would appreciate it if you were able to stop telling others that my bargina is already dilated to a 4 and that the baby would be falling out any day now, because, nope. XOXO, I love you!<br /><br />It is true that this season I've spent as a human duplex is coming rapidly to a close. And that in the next few weeks (days?), we'll be celebrating the 5th birthday of our first son, the birth of our third son, our 7th year of managing to stay married to each other, sending Paul back to school after having the summer "off" (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA), and sending aforementioned brand new 5 year old to pre-school for another year as well. Not to mention getting that damn basement finished, both of Paul's parents' birthdays, and then Triple's third birthday a few weeks after that, and oh yeah-a newborn sucking the very life out of me. What can I say, I know how to time things. For the next five years we'll probably be celibate monks during the months of November and December in hopes of avoiding this kind of nonsense in the future. FINE WITH ME!<br /><br />It sounds a little overwhelming when I lay it all out like that, but I was built to handle this business and handle it I will. Plus, I'm about good and ready to do some serious sniffing of this baby's fuzzy head, a small reward for the damage inflicted upon my large bod for the last 9 months.<br /><br />Pray for my bargina guys, I don't need no baby falling out in the middle of the street.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cR2kv2PsZ1o/UgLDW6fclrI/AAAAAAAAA_U/m6N6HITWOhI/s1600/IMG_3931.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cR2kv2PsZ1o/UgLDW6fclrI/AAAAAAAAA_U/m6N6HITWOhI/s640/IMG_3931.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />Now let's do this.<br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div>http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/08/bargina-dispatches-from-inside.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-3225982625835276657Sat, 06 Jul 2013 18:59:00 +00002013-07-06T13:01:31.375-06:0032 weeks with baby #3baby #3baby makingbrothers don't shake brothers gotta hugsummer lovin'The Ides of SummerJuly 6th already, eh?<br /><br />Alright then.<br /><br />With Google Reader shutting down I'm not even sure how much traffic this spot gets anymore, especially with the radio silence, except from all the spam sites of course. What's with that anyway? I'm perpetually confused by the internets.<br /><br />Here are some things I've done lately:<br /><br /><ol><li>not died from heat stroke</li><li>eaten more watermelon than probably any other human being on the planet</li><li>gotten very, very large. Even my gym clothes are straining at the seams, whatever.&nbsp;</li><li>bi-weekly donut runs-this explains a lot about the "getting very large" bit above</li><li>not cooked</li><li>hit the pool, a lot</li><li>cried many angry tears over my brother and his family moving back to Wyoming this month, because, why would you do that?&nbsp;</li><li>gone to Connie and Lane's</li><li>reluctantly participated in my Grandma's premature 90th birthday party/4th of July famstravaganza (she's not 90 until September)</li><li>Sonic</li><li>naps</li><li>paid someone to kill bugs at my house</li><li>retained enough water to replenish all the reservoirs in Utah</li><li>read a book, like start to finish, just like the good old days!</li><li>some other stuff</li></ol><div><br /></div><div>You're all caught up now! Doesn't that feel good? I know. Here's a picture from last week when I mowed the lawn, I put it in black and white so you couldn't make fun of my farmer's tan. I have big guns. Nice face, Nub. (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxQ6olQjebg" target="_blank">Sprockets</a>?)</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P36RWVxR1Fw/Udhhao0fU7I/AAAAAAAAA-0/z5pEYH2H-YM/s1600/IMG_4243.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P36RWVxR1Fw/Udhhao0fU7I/AAAAAAAAA-0/z5pEYH2H-YM/s640/IMG_4243.jpg" width="478" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I should stay pregnant for another 7-8 more weeks, which, whoa. Except I'm not feeling stressed about it at all, a welcome change from my last gestation with Triple which was loaded with all sorts of nonsense. People keep commenting on how awful it is to suffer through a summer pregnancy, but I'm alright. I'd rather be whaling out in a swimsuit at the pool than bundled up in uncomfortable maternity clothes and hauling kids around in frigid temps. But what do I know? This is only my third time around. Plus, people stare at a large lady in a swimsuit and that's my favorite! I keep wanting to wear a two piece just for shock value but knowing my luck, all the people from church would show up that day and like I want them being jealous of this hot bod any more than they already are.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Magically, Paul is home today and down frantically trying to get the basement finished so we have somewhere for all these children to go. Mostly I just want the main t.v. out of our bedroom so that the little people have somewhere else to stash their sippy cups for me to find 2 weeks later full of clotted yum. A finished basement you guys, can you imagine? We're so rich! Also, Paul is awesome and I'm glad we're married. His beard is super luxurious right now, all red and curly. I'd jump him except, no.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">What are we naming this baby? I don't know. Triple suggested "Baby Brother", and Nubby says "Jaxman". I'll take a hard pass on both. I think we'll browse <b><u><a href="http://wesclark.com/ubn/" target="_blank">this list</a></u></b> for a few choice options.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><br /></div>http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/07/the-ides-of-summer.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-344337376970115411Thu, 16 May 2013 07:14:00 +00002013-05-16T01:14:14.518-06:00baby #3baby makingnub nubsummer lovin'TripleBedtime And BaseballThe giant THUD I just heard above my head would indicate that Triple has fallen out of his bed, again. The first few times it happened I ran up there in a panic, only to get there and see that he'd already put himself back in bed with no extra assistance needed. So I don't run anymore (mostly because I am a brick house), because that kid can handle himself. Except for those times when I'm in a hurry or my attention is directed elsewhere. Those are the times he wants to do anything except the one thing I want him to do. The only motivation I can conjure to encourage any sort of cooperation is the threat of a swat. I don't know how I got to be that mom, and yet here we are.<br /><br />Children have a way of holding you hostage to your own moral reservations.<br /><br />The Nub is really into baseball right now. He had his first practice for his coach-pitch team and he was all business the entire hour. Paul surprised us by actually coming home after work tonight and they played and practiced for the whole evening. It's kind of the cutest thing in the world, especially when I don't have to be the one bending over to pick up the ball and throw it back to him for the bazillionth time. He's one of the smallest frys on the team thanks to his late summer birthday. Most of the other kids are coming out of kindergarten and headed to first grade next year. Not my Nub, he'll do more time in pre-school before we release him into his formal education. He'll thank me for it later I hope.<br /><br />I'm tired. Who told the fat girl it was okay to stay up way way way past her bedtime for two nights in a row? Idiot.http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/05/bedtime-and-baseball.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-3935486451838186699Tue, 23 Apr 2013 22:22:00 +00002013-10-08T22:48:31.118-06:00brothers don't shake brothers gotta hugchildhoodfamilies are forevermotherhoodnub nubraising boysTripleA Fake Sunburst In A Photo Doesn't Mean The Sun Was Actually ShiningI think a lot about how my kids will remember their childhoods. Will they later be weirded out about their unclothed, pregnant mother walking casually from the closet to the shower (the negatives of the only tv in the house residing currently in the master bedroom), or will they instead remember how every morning they got to sip their juice like kings and watch Curious George in my bed before the day started? I dunno. <br /><br />I don't have any aspirations of a photoshop-like, sunburst halo of perfection when it comes to this family that I've got. Sometimes days are long, little people are demanding, patience is thin, husband/dad is gone to work/more work/school/church/whatever, and I end up forcing kids into bed before the sun goes down (thank you blackout curtains) in an attempt to keep myself from saying bad words out loud and further scarring them for life. But then they get up at ungodly hours, both of them at different times, having peed through their underwear/diaper because I put them to bed so early and what tiny bladder can hold it for that long? I'm not mad because I had that coming and I'll gladly make penance when penance is due, even if it includes changing pee sheets and jammies at 1 and 4 am. <br /><br />I want this life to be the kind of life they'll later realize they were lucky to have. And I think of these times right now - when we struggle and we're young(ish...*cough PAUL), and we deal with the everyday routine - mostly as times that we get to earn all of the good stuff that happens in the middle of it and of course all the stuff that's yet to come. I hope they feel like home is wherever we all are, no matter how spread apart that might be, that nothing tastes better than Mom's rolls or bread or whatever it is that I eventually decide will be my signature "thing", that brothers always defend one another no matter how much they fight with each other, and that more than anything they'll know they are and always were, loved and wanted and treasured.&nbsp;Never mind how many times they got sent to bed early &nbsp;or yelled at for fighting, that kind of business is just how things go down in Verbie town. You know I keep it locked tight.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AlbHuSxQVFo/UXcIeSXCeBI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/nN5a9iN7ePE/s1600/IMG_3920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AlbHuSxQVFo/UXcIeSXCeBI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/nN5a9iN7ePE/s640/IMG_3920.jpg" width="478" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br />http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/04/a-fake-sunburst-in-photo-doesnt-mean.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-3128642941468306211Sat, 20 Apr 2013 23:24:00 +00002013-04-20T17:30:01.202-06:00baby makingFifth DiseaseFifth Disease in pregnancyFloridavacationFifth Disease Is No JokeA week after <a href="http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/03/dispatches-from-flo-rida.html" target="_blank">we got home from Florida</a> the Nub came down with the weirdest rash on his cheeks. It looked kind of like a sunburn but then began spiderwebbing its way across his neck and showed up on his arms and eventually to his legs and the rest of his body. After I noticed it and realized it had been a week since it first showed up, I took him into our pediatrician who gave him a good look over and said he thought it was an allergic reaction to the sun and that he wasn't really sure. Pediatrician FAIL.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6YbDTLIofxE/UXGHu-lSZ7I/AAAAAAAAA70/G9bj7Sf4KbI/s1600/IMG_3868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6YbDTLIofxE/UXGHu-lSZ7I/AAAAAAAAA70/G9bj7Sf4KbI/s640/IMG_3868.jpg" width="476" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fhWVfO9Vt1s/UXGH9_x4LvI/AAAAAAAAA8M/m-asRMuzHCI/s1600/IMG_3901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fhWVfO9Vt1s/UXGH9_x4LvI/AAAAAAAAA8M/m-asRMuzHCI/s640/IMG_3901.jpg" width="478" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Long story short, that's <a href="http://www.fifthdisease.org/" target="_blank"><b>Fifth Disease</b></a> right there. Fifth Disease is no big deal to most people (and most of those people are kids) who get it-some cold symptoms, a fever, and then the weird rash that takes forever and ever to clear and only shows up after that person isn't contagious anymore. And then once you've had it, you're immune from ever getting it again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">But if<a href="http://www.fifthdisease.org/pregnancy.html" target="_blank">&nbsp;you're pregnant</a>, it's a whole other mess of porridge. Click that link, yo. &nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Longer story short, I had my blood drawn a few times and start to finish had to wait about 3 of the most anxiety ridden weeks of my life to confirm that I did indeed have immunity and that this baby was not in danger of developing any of those terrifying conditions listed. Fetal death? Severe anemia? Yeah, no thanks.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">So that's where we're at. I'll probably still demand a few more ultrasounds along the way to make sure all is as it should be because I'm high maintenance like that, but relief doesn't even begin to cover the wave of gratitude washing over me after that phone call from the nurse with my lab results. A healthy baby is nothing to take for granted.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">But really, this is all Florida's fault. Am I right? I'm right.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div>http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/04/fifth-disease-is-no-joke.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-3906647055900842762Fri, 29 Mar 2013 21:32:00 +00002013-03-29T15:36:24.383-06:00baby #3baby makingboysfamilies are forevermom of boysmotherhoodoh happy dayraising boysThere's Always Room For One MoreYesterday I sat in a darkened room with Paul at my left, watching a giant screen as the technician chased a wand across my ginormous already abdomen hoping to nail down this new baby for a solid assessment. It took well over an hour, the kid was on the move, and thankfully everything is fine with a proclamation of perfection given to every detail both large and small. It's all so crazy isn't it, peeking inside the womb for a glimpse of your future child? Counting fingers and toes, watching functioning heart chambers pump blood, a brain with all its ventricles and parts intact, a miracle for the 3rd time. It feels like a lucky roll of the dice.<br /><br />We'll have another brother to add to this mix and I haven't been able to stop crying since. At stoplights, in my kitchen, watching Grey's Anatomy while folding laundry, answering text messages, in the shower - it's an epidemic. How lucky am I to mother these boys? I had so prepared myself for a daughter that the announcement of another boy actually caught me pretty off guard. A boy you say? Another? I made them check twice and indeed, there was no mistaking that digit to be anything other than what it is.<br /><br />I don't know, I can't focus. I'm just so stupid happy my heart feels like exploding.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D1pGS1Kc9IM/UVYHClsegAI/AAAAAAAAA7g/-kAGt0PovQE/s1600/IMG_3863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D1pGS1Kc9IM/UVYHClsegAI/AAAAAAAAA7g/-kAGt0PovQE/s640/IMG_3863.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">penis and bladder (I think) and some femur too, he'll thank me for this when he's older</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/03/theres-always-room-for-one-more.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-9158839176533712531Wed, 20 Mar 2013 04:28:00 +00002013-03-19T22:29:33.852-06:00families are foreverFloridanub nubTriplevacationDispatches from Flo-Rida<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hn-xZFoolUk/UUkxnlgCILI/AAAAAAAAA7E/Im5PHUSHoXY/s1600/IMG_3780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hn-xZFoolUk/UUkxnlgCILI/AAAAAAAAA7E/Im5PHUSHoXY/s640/IMG_3780.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I mean, really...</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">These children have barely left the pool long enough to do things like eat and sleep and it brings the kind of saturating joy to my heart that only sunshine and warm weather can provide. My brother and his family left this morning and I felt quite sad about that part coming to an end. We never get enough time together it seems, and the past four days have been more relaxing and fun than I could have asked for. These cousins who see each other only once or twice a year played together like long lost best friends, and their parents sat and laughed and talked without having to break up hardly a single tussle. My favorite was listening to the Nub and his delightful hockey hair sporting cousin (who is 5 months his senior and a whole head taller) plan out their following day after the lights were shut off in their room,&nbsp;<i>"first we'll have some Magically Delicious (Lucky Charms) and then we'll go swimming and then watch some toons"</i>. 4 year old boys are my favorite, hands down.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">After they left to catch their flight back home, we did nothing with a side of nothing and later visited a Steak and Shake so packed with senior citz I looked around for a tour bus of sorts. But then I remembered, <i>oh this is Florida</i>, and then the whole moth to the flame analogy clicked in and we made small talk with some of the cute older couples waiting in line with us and I found myself wondering if Paul and I would flock to a place like this when we got old and crusty too. Sometimes I already think we're pretty old and crusty, at least Paul is, he turns 37 in a few months after all. Crusty is a pretty gross descriptive but sometimes I think it's pretty weird and off-putting how the body starts to actually break down on itself, you know what I mean? I imagine it almost feels like a betrayal of sorts. Ah the frailties of the human experience...and that sort of a thing. &nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We did a snippet of Universal on Sunday, long enough for me and my Harry Potter loving sister-in-law to get a wand at Ollivander's and sip a tasty slurp of butterbeer (tastes like cream soda). I was a nice mom and shared with my kids too, they don't know how lucky they are, ungrateful muggles.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TkY-2JSdRbA/UUk46fUm5RI/AAAAAAAAA7M/bhx2q4g6qq8/s1600/IMG_3787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TkY-2JSdRbA/UUk46fUm5RI/AAAAAAAAA7M/bhx2q4g6qq8/s640/IMG_3787.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Tomorrow we are off to Disney World and I can hardly wait. The nice thing about having a connection to all of these sorts of things is that the pressure is off, you didn't have to drop a small fortune to buy this experience for your children which in effect means you can sit back a little and enjoy the ride(s); the sense of urgency and the rush rush rush is practically non-existent. I don't even know what's going on back home and that makes me pretty happy. For our first family vacation in the history of ever, I think we're doing it up right.&nbsp;</div>http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/03/dispatches-from-flo-rida.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-630134838165237662Sat, 09 Mar 2013 22:46:00 +00002013-03-09T15:46:41.318-07:00childhoodguiltmotherhoodnub nubTriplevacationGuilt Is A Vicious CycleThings I feel bad about:<br /><br /><ul><li>The yelling at the children. So much yelling. Okay maybe not as much yelling as you think but still, enough yelling for me to feel bad about it. When I try to be calm and use reason and logic with these children they don't understand and the situation just gets worse and then eventually escalates to yelling again. Sometimes I want to walk around the corner and flip them off when they can't see, like how Paul does it to me when we fight.&nbsp;</li><li>I don't craft or do artsy things very often with my kids. I don't personally enjoy it a great deal and they seem to get bored really quickly when I do put a project out there. Have I shortened their attention spans beyond repair with too much PBS? How can that much Curious George lead to a stunting of left brain creativity? Maybe I should go fill a plastic bin with rice right now and let them play in it. Except that's a terrible idea. &nbsp;On a related note:</li><li>Too much television. I think maybe it's just the winter that's got me down on this because friends of the internets-my children have watched A LOT of t.v. over the past few months. They love nothing more than to plop themselves on my bed and park it for an hour or two for a solid session of entertainment. And I'm busy, so I let them do it probably for too long. Please tell me if you notice any residual effects like they try to fast forward through conversations with live people. I'm hoping that when we relocate the television to the basement family room (which should be getting close to done this week, glory!), this will become less of an issue due to lack of convenience. Also, the sun has started to shine again which means in a few short months we'll be back outside. Bless all the hearts!</li><li>The iPhone is causing problems. I have nightmares that my later in life my kids will be reminiscing about how Mom never was without her white phone, even in the bathroom. It was my New Year's Resolution to lay off the thing, but then the baby hormones from hell kicked in and made it so I could do nothing but lay in bed and try not to die. So me and my iPhone became best friends again seeing as how she was my only connection to the world of the living. Shut up, you know you take yours in the bathroom too.&nbsp;</li></ul><div><br /></div><div>I think maybe those are all the things I'm feeling bad about for today. I could add carbs, refined sugar, caffeine, and stretchy pants to that list but I'd have to feel bad about them first.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>We leave for Florida in one week. Disney World, Universal, rental house with pool and hot tub, beach, this vacation has it all. Can't wait to fly for 6 hours on a plane with Triple. Pray for us.&nbsp;</div>http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/03/guilt-is-vicious-cycle.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-4571172608898287002Thu, 07 Mar 2013 07:02:00 +00002013-03-07T00:03:46.347-07:00baby makingnub nubspring feverTriplewhy I love PaulIt's What Paul Really Gave Me For Christmas, How ThoughtfulWhat is it, March?<br /><br />Finally.<br /><br />We're going to Florida in a week and basically I've been tearing rings off my virtual paper chain all winter long to keep from strangling myself with it instead. Can you strangle yourself with a paper chain? I'm just saying, it's possible.<br /><br />Anyway, this blog has been dead since Christmas which, not coincidentally, is right about when I found out this was happening:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rmacYWh8j8A/UTgz5bUo6zI/AAAAAAAAA60/ZN1KzTxMY7U/s1600/IMG_3667.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rmacYWh8j8A/UTgz5bUo6zI/AAAAAAAAA60/ZN1KzTxMY7U/s640/IMG_3667.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It looks much larger in this photo than it is in real life, at least that's what I keep telling myself. I must have had a full bladder or a large sandwich or something. Geez. So anyway, yeah, we're doing this again. Officially, Little Verbie #3 is supposed to get here within the first few days of September. Based on measurements and the whisperings of the Holy Spirit I'm betting the last week of August, especially since my baby basket likes to prep for these things way in advance. Going overdue? I can't quite fathom, but kind of wish I could since our flex spending total resets as of Sept. 1st and we've already spent this years allotted amount on <a href="http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2012/10/broke-as-joke.html" target="_blank">1 twice broken leg</a> (Nub), 1 crown with root canal (Paul), 1 visit to <a href="http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2012/12/weve-all-got-dreams-mine-involve.html" target="_blank">instacare and 3 chin stitches</a> (Triple), and a series of very expensive medication I have to take to stay pregnant - and it's not even April yet! There is miraculously still a small balance left which will likely go to a 2nd crown and possible root canal after Paul broke off a chunk of another molar yesterday. Seriously, the guy stares down his 37th birthday in a few months and starts falling apart. Did I mention he gashed open his hand today at work when a piece of glass they were handling just up and exploded? 6 stitches later...go team!&nbsp;We like to keep things interesting I guess. We're also in the middle of finishing off the basement to make room for all these children, and taking the first vacation we've ever taken as a family. My checkbook runneth empty, and that's okay. I'm just trying to figure out how to <a href="http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2010/09/it-happened-like-this.html" target="_blank">budget that epidural in</a> - should I decide I want one this time around. Kickstarter fund? &nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">So there it is. I'm feeling pleased to be out of the window of despair and extreme exhaustion/severe nausea that hit me through January and February and happy to be looking forward to another summer spent sweating like a beached hippo at the community pool. All three of these children will be celebrating their birthdays within a less than 30 day period in case you cared to know.&nbsp;Looks like I need to find a new hobby during the months of November and December. Knitting might have less of an impact on my reproductive bits.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'll look into it.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div>http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2013/03/its-what-paul-really-gave-me-for.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-8295987099500051335Wed, 26 Dec 2012 10:55:00 +00002012-12-26T03:55:13.434-07:00childhood. nub nubChristmasChristmas is Herenub nubTriplewinter SUCKSI Need A Good Holiday Sedative<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-18zetbq8RXY/UNrPfPrL0LI/AAAAAAAAA3A/gY518_cRfmw/s1600/afterglow.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-18zetbq8RXY/UNrPfPrL0LI/AAAAAAAAA3A/gY518_cRfmw/s640/afterglow.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br />2:51 am - day after Christmas<br /><br />We've had the plague circulating at our house for the past week and it's woken me up with coughing fits at ungodly hours the last several nights which would explain why I fell asleep on my bed at 8:30 pm on Christmas day, only after falling asleep earlier in the car on the way home from Connie's. And now it's 3 am and I've been awake for an hour dinking around on the internets, doing whatever it is that you do when everyone else in your house is justifiably asleep.<br /><br />Tomorrow is gonna be amazing, I just know it!<br /><br />Today was good though, really good. Even though I was awake at 5 am and my kids didn't wake up until 8, I managed to pull myself together for the occasion. Opening presents and making Christmas breakfast in my own house was 7 different kinds of magical. I'm not sure when I'll ever get over this whole "beholden unto none but myself" golden era I seem to be stuck in, but it seems like a fairly happy place to be. My favorite gifts received: a microplane zester and new measuring cups. The thrill! Favorite gifts given: 2 bouncy, inflatable donkey things (see <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hopper-Included-Inflatable-Jumping-Bouncy/dp/B006PZ0QW6/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1356517703&amp;sr=8-3&amp;keywords=inflatable+horse" target="_blank">HERE</a>) promptly christened "Maxi" and "Julie" by the Nub. My boys spent their waking hours at home today bouncing Maxi and Julie all over kingdom come and probably giving themselves brain damage in the process. Worth it! Paul got a new air compressor he gifted himself weeks ago and some clothes. Oh, and a beard trimmer since his old one bit the dust. We like to keep things exciting!<br /><br />Does anyone else come down with instant depression the day after Christmas? What's left to look forward to? January, February and March, that's what, the three triplet sister months of despair and stir-crazy when I find myself hitting the local fast food play land circuit more times than I'd ever like to admit. Nuggets and repeat exposure to communicable diseases for everyone! It's a pretty mind-numbing time of year for mothers of small children, am I right? I wonder if I'll ever stop wigging out about it and learn to deal, probably not.<br /><br />Did I tell you we finally took away ye olde pacifier from Triple (or "fah-foo" as he calls it, don't ask)? I never thought I'd be one of those parents with a kid way past the age of normal still attached to a self-soothing device, and yet somehow I ended up with one thumbsucker and one paci-lover. We didn't end with any grand gesture, no paci-fairies or ceremony to signal the end, I just stopped giving it to him. He cried a little and got himself stuck under his bed looking for one before naps that one time, but mostly it hasn't been that big of a deal. It made me a little sad truthfully! Goodbye babyhood, although I think Triple passed that milestone about 20 lbs ago.<br /><br />And since we're talking about pacifiers, I'll wrap this up with a video of babies fighting over one (thanks for that Rachel):<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://1.gvt0.com/vi/OQ3e1rBhdM0/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OQ3e1rBhdM0&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OQ3e1rBhdM0&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Merry Christmas!</div><br /><br /><br />http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2012/12/i-need-good-holiday-sedative.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-870017017589272752Sat, 01 Dec 2012 07:59:00 +00002012-12-01T01:02:53.893-07:00boysbrothers don't shake brothers gotta hugchildhoodchildhood. nub nubhopes and dreams and other thingsLumotherhoodTripleWe've All Got Dreams, Mine Involve Stitches And Broken Bones<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JP21Ul8ONYE/ULmu5kOFsgI/AAAAAAAAA2c/rDWeeUt-h2k/s1600/Split+Chin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JP21Ul8ONYE/ULmu5kOFsgI/AAAAAAAAA2c/rDWeeUt-h2k/s640/Split+Chin.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Someone needs to tell me what's up with my kids and why they feel the need to drive me to the poor house with junk like this. First up: double broken leg for the Nub! Second act: split chin and 3 stitches for Triple. &nbsp; I assume we'll be trading doctor's visits like this for the next 16-18 years so pretty much get used to it, right? We need better insurance is all I know.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Boys.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Blood and gore doesn't gross me out, I watched that giant head you see above barrel through my own lady bits on the day of his blessed birth if you need proof. Go ahead and conjure up that image, you're welcome! And really it was fine and he was fine until the doctor stabbed a huge numbing needle right into the middle of that gash and then did it again about 6 more times. Triple screamed and cried and I held him down and felt his sweaty little body shake and stiffen. My eyes filled with hot tears and I told him it was almost done and this was the worst part and that I wouldn't leave him. My boy is a stout little fellow, and as soon as that part was over and even with a blue sanitary sheet draped over his whole face, he stopped crying, gripped my hands, and held still while those stitches were being stitched. What a tough little babe.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'm sure it's a scene we'll re-play many times knowing these boys of mine. The role of seasoned mother who thrives under pressure is one I'm learning to play. Stitches, broken bones and all, I know...I'm living the dream. This is right where I've always wanted to be so lucky, lucky me.&nbsp;</div><br />http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2012/12/weve-all-got-dreams-mine-involve.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-3099656952069827481Fri, 30 Nov 2012 23:46:00 +00002012-12-02T15:57:55.657-07:00clothes for kidsGymboreekid clothesquality clothes for kidssponsoredGymboree Is Where You Shop For The Kid Clothes And Stuff<i>This post is sponsored by <a href="http://www.gymboree.com/index.jsp?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374303003787&amp;ASSORTMENT%3C%3East_id=1408474395917465&amp;bmUID=1354316961880" target="_blank">Gymboree</a>&nbsp;</i><i>who paid me with a generous gift card to get some new digs for my kids for Christmas. Good thing my kids don't know how to read (or even know what a blog is) because that would really ruin the surprise now wouldn't it?&nbsp;</i><br /><br />So here's a little secret I want you to know - when I shop for my kids (okay when I shop for clothes in general) I never ever pay full price for anything. Basically, I'm morally opposed to paying full price because nothing makes me more angry than doing that and then walking by that same item a week later marked down 20%. Paying full price for kid clothes is especially ridiculous because kids are the ruiner of everything, clothes included.<br /><br />I like my receipts to look something like this:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1OnK1hCclm0/ULk8UzBcDgI/AAAAAAAAA1g/q8MxtYbtAmg/s1600/IMG_3133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1OnK1hCclm0/ULk8UzBcDgI/AAAAAAAAA1g/q8MxtYbtAmg/s640/IMG_3133.jpg" width="478" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Nice, right? I scored over $60 worth of merch for $27.69. But Kalli, are you an extreme couponer? What is your secret? Here's the secret: sign up for rewards programs and email lists and pay attention. <a href="http://www.gymboree.com/" target="_blank">Gymboree</a>, which is where this particular shopping excursion took place, has an <a href="http://www.gymboree.com/rewards/home.jsp?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374306254255&amp;ASSORTMENT%3C%3East_id=1408474395917465&amp;bmUID=1354317376557" target="_blank">awesome rewards program</a> that is free to participate in, offers regular discounts, and even pays you back by letting you earn"GymBucks" which you can redeem for discounts on future purchases. I like <a href="http://www.gymboree.com/index.jsp?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374303003787&amp;ASSORTMENT%3C%3East_id=1408474395917465&amp;bmUID=1354316961880" target="_blank">Gymboree</a> for a few different reasons; #1. their rewards program is pretty bonkers, and #2. they make quality clothes that my kids won't ruin in like .05 seconds, #3. they have some decent sales that bring me great joy because as I mentioned before - I don't pay full price for anything that isn't perishable.&nbsp;</div><br />I took <a href="http://jill-k.com/" target="_blank">Jill</a> shopping with me last night, and we made a bunch of awkward jokes and took even more awkward pictures. Because we are nothing if not consistent with those types of things in our friendship. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IH5r6Ig9LWw/ULlAEc0L5MI/AAAAAAAAA2I/p3AfsXYnerc/s1600/IMG_3136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IH5r6Ig9LWw/ULlAEc0L5MI/AAAAAAAAA2I/p3AfsXYnerc/s640/IMG_3136.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br />See how happy Jill is? She signed up for the rewards program and got 25% off. Bring in a friend, sign up together, and you can get the same discount, see the details <a href="http://www.gymboree.com/rewards/home.jsp?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374306254255&amp;ASSORTMENT%3C%3East_id=1408474395917465&amp;bmUID=1354317376557" target="_blank">HERE</a>.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2LEZcmYd7Dg/ULk_M1v-bWI/AAAAAAAAA14/86BrZXFbLRI/s1600/IMG_3126.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2LEZcmYd7Dg/ULk_M1v-bWI/AAAAAAAAA14/86BrZXFbLRI/s640/IMG_3126.jpg" width="478" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We bought matching Christmas jammies for our kids for when we all move in together on that compound we're building and live like real Mormons should.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rkM7TVV0ua8/ULlACDNgMZI/AAAAAAAAA2A/P-6EhWPKt7o/s1600/IMG_3135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rkM7TVV0ua8/ULlACDNgMZI/AAAAAAAAA2A/P-6EhWPKt7o/s640/IMG_3135.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Want to win a $75 Gymboree gift card for yourself? Check out <a href="http://jetsetcarina.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Carina's</a> giveaway <a href="http://www.jetsetcarina.com/2012/11/shopping-with-friends-at-gymboree.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thanks <a href="http://www.gymboree.com/" target="_blank">Gymboree</a>!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><br />http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2012/11/gymboree-is-where-you-shop-for-kid.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3954232513446154821.post-4246467310529558767Sat, 24 Nov 2012 06:52:00 +00002012-11-23T23:53:14.424-07:00familymotherhoodmy family is crazynub nubSkyfallthanksgivingI Am Winning At All The Things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nNMbKoR2GuA/ULBpKhNLvJI/AAAAAAAAA1I/B77cai-DuCM/s1600/IMG_3054.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nNMbKoR2GuA/ULBpKhNLvJI/AAAAAAAAA1I/B77cai-DuCM/s640/IMG_3054.PNG" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Can I get a what what?? <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Thanks for that one <a href="http://www.ericasbloggityblog.com/" target="_blank">Erica</a></span>.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Today the Nub finished his applesauce, pushed the bowl towards me and said "Mom, I totally killed it", and I realized that I am truly winning at motherhood and life because my kid is awesome.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">My birthday happened. Yeah, I'm 31. I bought myself several things from the Target and felt good about it because I am wise and seasoned and I know where they hide all of the clearance items in the home goods section. My in-laws got me new dishes for my kitchen and I was totally excited about it which means I have successfully crossed the chasm from young and hip to tragic and turtlenecks with seasonal sweaters. You know what I'm talking about, so does your 3rd grade teacher. Unless that teacher is in Utah because most of the teachers in Utah are like 22 and still pretty attractive... until they teach for a year or two and realize the state of Utah pays them as much as the average parking attendant makes anywhere else and they go and get married and pop out a few kids instead or leave for greener pastures. The future is bright for the children of Utah! But really, thanks teachers who stick around, you guys are heroes.&nbsp;</div><br />Did you have a happy Thanksgiving? I still haven't stopped eating and it's starting to get gross, there's just so much bloat. I've worn leggings for 2 days straight because zippers are the enemy. Also, I finally got to see the new Bond movie (in my leggings of course) and it did not disappoint. Not one bit.<br /><br />My eyes are starting to go crossed because I forgot my glasses at Connie's house yesterday where I was trying to read a book after dinner and then realized that was stupid because I had an open invitation to nap at will, which is when I set them all on top of the piano and did just that. Tomorrow I have to wake up early and bake something for the annual "Thanksgiving 2 days after Thanksgiving" family party that pretty much I can't wait to attend.<br /><br />Or can I.http://www.mylifeasakalli.com/2012/11/i-am-winning-at-all-things.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Kalli)4